Veteran's Day - Thanks to all the brave women and men who have served our country.

[telemann.livejournal.com]

Mary McHugh mourns her fiancé, Sgt. James Regan, at Section 60 in Arlington National Cemetary. Sgt. Regan, an Army Ranger, was killed when his patrol vehicle was blown up by a bomb in Baghdad.

Normandy

Soldiers of the 16th Infantry Regiment, wounded while storming Omaha Beach, wait by the chalk cliffs for evacuation to a field hospital for treatment, D-Day, June 6, 1944.

Korea

A grief stricken American infantryman whose buddy has been killed in action is comforted by another soldier. In the background a corpsman methodically fills out casualty tags, Haktong-ni area, Korea. August 28, 1950. Sfc. Al Chang.

Vietnam

Left: In this June 17, 1967 file photo, medic James E. Callahan of Pittsfield, Mass., treats a U.S. infantryman who suffered a head wound when a Viet Cong bullet pierced his helmet during a three-hour battle in war zone D, about 50 miles northeast of Saigon. Right: In this January 1966 file photo, First Cavalry Division medic Thomas Cole, from Richmond, Va., looks up with one uncovered eye as he treats a wounded Staff Sgt. Harrison Pell during a firefight in the Central Highlands in Vietnam, between U.S. troops and a combined North Vietnamese and Vietcong forces. AP| Henri Huet

Iraq

Marine Staff Sgt. John Jones. SSgt John P. Jones was serving in Iraq with the 1st Battalion/ 7th Marines when he was severely injured on January 3, 2005. John was in the 7th vehicle of a 35-vehicle convoy when it hit a double-stacked anti-tank mine. The mine that exploded under his hummer launched him 25 feet through the top of the vehicle.

Afganistan

Cpl. Pat Tillman, left, and his brother Kevin. After the 9/11 terrorist attacks, Tillman left a lucrative career as an NFL football player to enlist in the U.S. Army. Tillman was killed in action on April 22, 2004 near Sperah, Afghanistan.

Comments

Re: Green fields

[yes-justice.livejournal.com]

Arthur McBride

Oh, me and my cousin, one Arthur McBride,
As we went a-walkin' down by the seaside,
Mark now what followed and what did betide,
For it bein' on Christmas mornin'
Now, for recreation, we went on a tramp,
And we met Sergeant Napper and Corporal Vamp
And a little wee drummer intending to camp,
For the day bein' pleasant and charmin'.

"Good morning, good morning," the Sergeant he cried.
"And the same to you, gentlemen," we did reply,
Intending no harm but meant to pass by,
For it bein' on Christmas mornin'
"But," says he, "My fine fellows, if you will enlist,
Ten guineas in gold I'll stick to your fist,
And a crown in the bargain for to kick up the dust,
And drink the king's health in the morning.

"For a soldier, he leads a very fine life,
And he always is blessed with a charming young wife,
And he pays all his debts without sorrow or strife,
And he always lives pleasant and charmin',
And a soldier, he always is decent and clean,
In the finest of clothing he's constantly seen.
While other poor fellows go dirty and mean,
And sup on thin gruel in the morning."

"But," says Arthur, "I wouldn't be proud of your clothes,
For you've only the lend of them, as I suppose,
But you dare not change them one night, for you know
If you do, you'll be flogged in the morning,
And although that we're single and free,
We take great delight in our own company,
We have no desire strange places to see,
Although that your offers are charming.

"And we have no desire to take your advance,
All hazards and dangers we barter on chance,
For you'd have no scruples for to send us to France,
Where we would get shot without warning,"
"Oh no," says the Sergeant. "I'll have no such chat,
And neither will I take it from snappy young brats,
For if you insult me with one other word,
I'll cut off your heads in the morning."

And Arthur and I, we soon drew our hogs,
And we scarce gave them time to draw their own blades
When a trusty shillelagh came over their head
And bid them take that as fair warning.
And their old rusty rapiers that hung by their sides,
We flung them as far as we could in the tide,
"Now take them up, devils!" cried Arthur McBride,
"And temper their edge in the mornin'!"

And the little wee drummer, we flattened his bow,
And we made a football of his rowdy-dow-dow,
Threw it in the tide for to rock and to roll,
And bade it a tedious returning,
And we havin' no money, paid them off in cracks.
We paid no respect to their two bloody backs,
And we lathered them there like a pair of wet sacks,
And left them for dead in the morning.

And so, to conclude and to finish disputes,
We obligingly asked if they wanted recruits,
For we were the lads who would give them hard clouts
And bid them look sharp in the mornin'.

Oh, me and my cousin, one Arthur McBride,
As we went a-walkin' down by the seaside,
Mark now what followed and what did betide,
For it bein' on Christmas mornin'

Copyright ©1992 Special Rider Music (http://www.bobdylan.com/#/songs/arthur-mcbride)